


Please Don't Go

by theroomstops



Series: Moments [1]
Category: Bodyguard (TV 2018)
Genre: F/M, mentions of roger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-14
Updated: 2019-03-14
Packaged: 2019-11-18 03:27:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18112319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theroomstops/pseuds/theroomstops
Summary: “Please don’t go.” She whispered, as she leaned against the doorframe between the living space and the bedroom. He nodded, and instinctively put his hands in his pockets, unsure of what to do.What if David didn't leave that first night at The Blackwood Hotel?





	Please Don't Go

**Author's Note:**

> An AU of sorts, I suppose. My idea of what could have happened if David didn't leave after they slept together the first time. This is sort of an insert more than an AU, I imagine this instead of him leaving, but the following days remain the same.
> 
> Thanks to my friends Ally and Victoria for spotting all the mistakes.

“David?” 

David stopped in his tracks. It was barely above a whisper, but he hadn’t expected to hear her voice at all. Not after she’d wordlessly gotten out of bed. He’d stayed behind, listening for signs that she was coming back. If nothing else, they needed to talk about whatever had just happened. When he’d heard nothing for fifteen minutes, he’d gotten up to leave.

“Please don’t go.” She whispered, as she leaned against the doorframe between the living space and the bedroom. He nodded, and instinctively put his hands in his pockets, unsure of what to do. The last thing he’d expected when she’d asked him - in a professional, though more emotional tone than she usually had - to come to her suite, was to find himself in her bed staring at the roof and wishing she’d come back to it. 

“Are you alright, Ma’am?” It was the first time he’d used the formal term since her emotional outburst earlier that evening. She brought a finger to her lips as she remembered the feeling of his lips on hers. 

 

_He had taken control after she had made the first move. His steady hands had removed her clothes as they’d fumbled their way to the bedroom, desperate to forget and push away the painful events of the day. Their mouths hadn’t parted once, not even when he had to make several attempts to remove his trousers. She’d sat on the edge of the bed, her sad, sort of vacant eyes looking up at him when he’d finally stepped out of his underwear. She had looked so broken, and he’d stopped._

_He’d grabbed the robe off the side of the bed, helping her into it before bending down to fasten the belt. His intent had been to help her into bed before pulling his clothes back on and leaving her to sleep if she could. But she had pulled his face to hers and kissed him again, and made him forget anything else but her even existed._

 

“I’m alright.” Her head rested against the wood, and he made a small step towards her.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have---. You’re in shock, and I should have controlled myself.”

“Please don’t apologize. We’re both shaken up, we were both at… fault.” As she said it, fault felt wrong. She didn’t regret what had happened at all, though she probably should. Her body had felt like a prison since the first bullet hit the car, and being with him had felt like fresh air. 

“I took advantage of your mental state.”

“My mental state… A man tried to murder me. We were both in that car, left to get out on our own. No one even tried to get us out until you...”

“As I said, ma’am, I’m sure there’s a logical—“

“Please don’t---“ She sighed, tried to get some control over her emotions. “We’re in private. No one ever really says my name anymore, not unless they want something from me.”

“ _Julia_.” She smiled gratefully as he said her name, and her body ached slightly as she moved across the room towards the sofa.

“I’m so tired, and I can’t stop shaking. Everything feels like it’s happening on a delay. It feels like I’m underwater and seeing everything from above at the same time. Even talking to you doesn’t quite feel like it’s happening.” Before he’d arrived, she had mostly felt numb and angry. All other emotions had seemed unable to break through, but those two had consumed her since she’d been left alone in that room. It was an odd combination; the rage that had bubbled within her, while the numbness had left her incapable to do anything with it. But now the rage had given way to shaking. As if he had opened the valves and in return she had poured bits of her anger onto him with every kiss and touch, leaving her now with only exhaustion. 

“Aye, that’s the shock. Did you eat?” She shook her head, and he nodded. “May I?” He gestured to the phone.

“Sergeant Budd calling on behalf of the Home Secretary...” She heard his voice in the background as she curled up on the sofa. The last time Julia had seen David before he’d arrived at her suite had been as he stood on the roof, watching down on her. Even his presence was calming, then and now. Even though her whole body felt unfamiliar. She felt sore, alert, drowsy and shaky all at once, and unbearably warm and cold at the same time. It was petrifying. All these feelings in her body, taking up space without her permission. Having his hands and lips on her, had been a momentary reprieve from the detachment that had set in, as she’d been taken into the new car. Her hand prickled, the recollection of holding onto him as the sounds of bullets rained around her once again repeating in her mind. She lost herself in fresh and painful memories until she heard his voice calling her name again. He’d sat down on the sofa next to her, a look of worry all over his face.

“Julia?” 

The tears that followed were not welcomed. She didn’t ever make it a habit of letting tears fall, even when she occasionally felt them threaten to. She had a myriad of ways to regain her composure, but now she had lost her control. The sobs weren’t welcomed either. Her body heaved for breath, short stutters of nothingness between sobs and tears. His arms were warm and strong as they pulled her into his embrace. He whispered something in her ear, but she couldn’t concentrate enough to catch them. Her lips could taste the tears as they fell, her eyes felt tired and they stung. He pulled her legs towards him and drew her in until she was almost on his lap. His arms never let go. He felt strong and warm, unwavering, holding her up with all the understanding and kindness that lived inside of him. Her head rested against his chest, and the sounds of his heart beating steadily under his blue shirt was soothing.

 

_It had felt like hours had passed when she’d finally lifted her tired body from the sofa to walk into the shower. She’d stood there naked and alone, and watched the blood trickle down into the shower drain. Terry’s blood. Her apathy had mostly turned to rage when even the third round of shampoo had looked pink against the tiles as she’d tried to catch her breath. After the fifth round, the foam and the water finally looked clear. She’d scrubbed her body as clean as she could, before she’d pulled on the robe that lay by the sink. Exhausted, she’d leaned against the marble and watched her own image in the mirror. Felt broken. Angry. Tired. Her phone had buzzed; her own name shining towards her in a national news alert when she’d picked it up. “Assassination attempt on Home Secretary Julia Montague.” Attempt. As if she was still fine. As if at least a part of her hadn’t died in that car. It would be known forever as only an attempt. Probably even forgotten in not too long, when something more horrible happened to someone else. No one would care that Terry had died thanks to bullets meant for her, and no one would care that she felt broken. Tomorrow, she’d have to fake being fine._

_David was the only one who might understand. Who had heard the same sounds she had, the ones that now echoed in her head. Bullets hitting the armored metal. The screams from people on the streets. Her own screams. His voice that had tried to calm her. The doctors and PPOs scurrying around trying to determine if she had been injured had just been annoying, not been reassuring at all. She’d wanted to open her mouth to scream at them as she’d sat there. Wanted to tell them that her wounds were in fact open and gushing where they couldn’t see them. But even when she’d given distinct signals for her brain to do so, her lips hadn’t moved. With resignation, and for the first time in her life, Julia Montague had allowed people to lead her. From a blood soaked car to the refuge of Pascoe House. From Pascoe House to a similar car as before, with no blood. From the bloodless car to the hospital. Then from the hospital to the hotel suite that she currently found herself in. She’d sat mindlessly as people rushed around her. Each of them telling her things she wasn’t ready to take in. They’d hung clothes in the closet and put what seemed like all the contents of her bathroom at home in the large, open room next to her current bedroom. She remembered being told some platitudes of how she just needed a good nights sleep as they’d left. She hadn’t said a word. Had barely found the energy to nod as they left._

_She had been left in a car; her only comfort the hand of her PPO. Someone paid to stand next to her, who had already made his feelings about her clear when they’d met only a few weeks ago. Someone who was merely doing his job when he’ rescued her from a would-be assassin. Though it felt as if they’d connected more recently, over an unwelcome date with Rob that had been sprung on her, and two fish & chips take out containers. After they’d finished eating, he’d brought two hot mugs of tea, and taken a seat across from her again. She’d asked more questions about him, and he’d asked more about her background. She’d opened up about her childhood, the kind he’d only seen portrayed in movies, and he’d shared stories about his own children. And she hadn’t really wanted him to leave when she finally saw that the time was unbearably late and she still had work to complete. _

_She had read the same two words again and again. “Assassination attempt.” She’d debated with herself quickly before she’d found his name and pressed ‘call’. She’d known the second she hung up that she had crossed a professional line. He was off duty, not required to do anything she asked at all, but he was the only one who might understand how she felt. She had questions, suspicions and fears. Alcohol had done little to help, the tea even less so. And she needed to see the reassuring face that had gotten her through the confusion from earlier._

 

She felt something wet on her forehead, and realized he was crying too. She felt an instinct to take care of him, the same way he was so lovingly taking care of her, and gently pulled away to wipe the tears off his cheek. Her tear-stained eyes met his, sadness evaporating the loneliness he’d seen in them when they’d first met, and he pressed his lips to hers. 

He wasn’t sure if he was doing it to comfort himself or her, but it felt nice. Her lips were soft, salty and welcoming. Their lips dueled unhurriedly, his arms still wrapped around her, as she finally relaxed into his embrace. 

It was the first time in a long time she’d felt comfortable this close to another human being. If he was using her, she couldn’t tell. And Julia Montague prided herself on being able to tell when someone was using her for his or her own gain. She was used to that. Most everyone around her was in one way or another, and she had decided it was better to know than be taken by surprise when they eventually let her down. But she wasn’t used to this. A loving, warm, gorgeous man holding her against him, who seemingly wanted nothing from her at the moment except her mouth. His mouth moved to her jaw, nipping gently at her skin. She took his hand, the rougher texture yet another contrast between them - fingers lacing automatically the same way they had when they’d held onto each other an hour ago.

All David could think was that he wanted more, but the knock on the door brought the moment to a halt as he looked at her. Glassy eyes looked back and he pushed her legs carefully off him as he stood to open the door. He couldn’t bear the thought of leaving her this way. He thought of the consequences, and as much as he knew he should care about them, he quickly decided to use the worst thing that had happened to her as an excuse to stay. He grabbed the trolley from the police officer outside, and held the door ajar as he spoke in a hushed voice. “Principal’s a mess. I’ve spoken to the chief, who thinks I should stay to make sure nothing happens. She appears to trust me. I, uh, found a set of pillows and covers in the closet; I’ll try to grab a few hours of sleep if she does. You alright out here?” The police officer nodded and David pushed the door open again, giving the officer a polite smile before he closed it.

The smells that suddenly surrounded her were overwhelming, though a break from the memory of the smell of blood and bullets. She’d never even thought about the fact that blood would smell like anything at all, until today, but it had. But now everything smelled overwhelmingly like soup. Chicken, she assumed. She watched as David placed the food on the table in front of her, as a sudden wave of nausea hit her. She pushed her tired body off the sofa and ran as quickly as she could manage to the bathroom, reaching the toilet just in time. An empty stomach, anxiety and fear had all mixed, and become the contents that emptied themselves onto the porcelain. She heard footsteps behind her, and tensed slightly. As if she hadn’t already shown him all the vulnerable sides of herself already. More than she’d ever shown anyone in her life. Even when she’d miscarried four years into her marriage, she’d done so alone, behind the privacy of a closed bathroom door. Part devastated at the loss of a little life, and part grateful not to be the bearer of a Penhaligon heir. But when a large hand gathered her hair and held it behind her, as another stroked the hand that rested on the toilet, she felt nothing but gratefulness. It almost felt undeserved, even after the day she’d had. New tears mixed with the bad taste in her mouth, as she gasped over the toilet seat. David whispered words of encouragement to let go of all her fears, until she sat back on the balls of her feet, exhausted and empty. He pulled her up, and supported her out to the sinks. He wet a towel while she gurgled water to clean her mouth, and then he gently pressed the cold fabric against the back of her neck as she brushed her teeth. She forced a quick smile towards him in the mirror. He grabbed her hand and they both walked back to the sofa, a pleading look on his face as she sat down next to him. “We should eat. I told them I wasn’t sure what you’d want, so they brought a little bit of everything.”

“I’m too tired, David.” It was the truth. Her eyelids were heavy, almost painfully so, and she’d expected him to argue. She was used to him protesting now, after weeks of arguing over which route to take in the car. But instead he smiled warmly, and pulled the metal lid off of the soup bowl. The chicken soup that had prompted her nausea earlier, now smelled heavenly. He brought the bowl and spoon to her, and tapped the spoon gently on the side as he waited expectantly. As if she was a toddler who hadn’t learned how to use utensils properly.

“You don’t have to---“

“I don’t mind.” Her brain told her to argue, but her body decided against it. She was too exhausted. He carefully lifted the spoon to her lips, smiling proudly when she parted her lips and then swallowed the soup. “I used to do this with my kids when they were ill.”

“Lucky them. I had a nanny. Not quite Mary Poppins as much as she was the headmistress from Matilda.” He looked at her with a surprised look in his eyes. “You don’t think I’ve ever read children’s books?”

“No, I just assumed you came out of the womb reading The Times or a law book.” It was the first time she could remember smiling all day. He continued to feed her, slowly and steadily, until he set an empty soup bowl back onto the table. “Chips? The salt will help you contain the food now that your stomach is empty. Don’t think I’ve ever told someone that chips will be good for you.”

More time passed in silence, as David ate whatever she turned down. And the chips did do her stomach some good, he’d been right about that.

“David, about what happened earlier ---“ The soft sound of her voice made him stop drinking, and he turned to look at her. “I shouldn’t have called you earlier, I crossed a line because I wanted to see you, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. No one has to know what happened tonight.” He put the bottle of San Pellegrino back on the table, as he turned to face her. Her hands were shaking, another aftereffect of trauma, he knew that all too well. “I didn’t have to come here, but I wanted to see you too. I had a choice, Julia; you didn’t make me do anything I didn’t want to do.”

“I’m not used to being weak.” Her voice was unusually timid; she usually spoke with admirable strength and a powerful confidence. 

“You’re not weak, Julia, you’re human.” His hand cupped her face, tired eyes looking at him as new tears threatened to fall. “You should get some sleep.”

“I’m afraid to close my eyes.” She sighed. David’s heart ached for the image of brokenness sitting in front of him. Part of him recognized the trauma, and knew the nightmares hadn’t even started. He imagined she had pain to face in the future that she probably didn’t even know existed. And he knew he couldn’t tell her. Instead of trying to offer some cliché about how everything would be fine, when he knew they wouldn’t, he pulled her into his arms as he stood up. He was surprised to find she didn’t fight him as he carried her to the bedroom. The mattress springs creaked slightly as he bent and put her down. He placed the pillow under her head, her heavy head barely moving as he shuffled everything around her. He debated lying down beside her, to make sure she fell asleep, but decided he’d probably crossed too many lines already, and to leave before she found the strength to throw him out instead. As he turned to leave, a weak hand grabbed onto his shirt and he looked down at Julia, breathing heavily and her eyes closed. He pulled slightly to make sure he’d understood her correctly, and she pulled back, to make sure he knew what she’d meant. 

“I’m just going to turn off the lights.” He leaned over to the light switch, and the darkness engulfed them, the room only lit up by streetlights on the street below. He climbed onto the bed and lay down beside her. He rested one arm underneath her pillow, and felt the other make its way over her. He wasn’t sure if he had put it there, or if she had, but she didn’t seem to mind, so he decided to leave it there. 

His fingers laced with hers as they rested against the mattress. Julia looked at their joined hands in the dark. She’d never been a fan of displays of affection. Even in her marriage, she and Roger had always been practical about their romance, never really sentimental or truly intimate. His thumb caressed hers, and for the first time in her life, she understood why people might find it comforting. Or maybe it was just having him there.

“After tonight, this can’t ever happen again.”

“I know.”

“Thank you. For everything.” She whispered, glad he couldn’t see her face as more tears pressed their way down her cheeks. It felt like forever before she could feel the familiar calm of sleep pull her in, and she heard his steady breathing behind her. She could almost feel him look at her in the dark, watching over her, just as he had earlier in the day. The day that felt like it had lasted forever.

When she woke in the morning, he was gone. Her heart ached. She longed to feel safe and cared for again. All that was left was the smell of him on the pillow, and she knew that when housecleaning was done, that would be gone too.

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize if the somewhat switching POVs are confusing, but I'm not a writer - I only write because I find it fun and I have the inspiration to. But I hope that maybe you enjoyed it regardless.


End file.
